Things we Leave Behind
by Seraphim-Burning
Summary: Triana has one trial left before becoming a full sorceress. However, the trial may kill her and with that in mind there is only one person she want's to say goodbye to. Dean/ Triana LEMON


Things we Leave Behind

Slipping into the compound was a great deal easier then she initially had thought it would be, then again nothing as simple as doors, high tech security systems, lasers or angry robots had ever been a threat to her before so it seemed unlikely it would be now. Gently she gripped the glittering bluish gem on the long silvery cord that hung between her breasts. Traveling through the worlds was a great deal easier then attempting to get a flight from whatever remote mountain they had been training on or, even better, jumping through her closet door as if it were the mystical gateway to Narnia.

For the hundredth time that night she felt the slight self-consciousness run through her body. Reaching out she tried to pull the jacket a little closer, to cover, well, anything. She had told her mother time and again that the outfit was too revealing but Tatiana had insisted. A sorceress, even an apprentice sorceress, must dress the part and so Triana had ended up with a long deep purple jacket that showcased her cleavage and tiny little boy shorts that made her feel like the entire world was staring at either her crouch or her ass- depending on which way she was facing. Of course the slightly uncomfortable body wear had been nothing compared to the boots. She had no idea what deranged maniac had decreed that all female sorceress' were required to thigh high wear stilettos but whoever it was deserved a swift kick in the ass. They were black shiny an had long zippers that ran up the back of them. It had taken her three days of training to just be able to balance herself on them and months to be able to run but she had done it, she had trained for it for the last few years and now, at twenty, she was nearing the end of her time with her mother. Triana wasn't really sure what she wanted to do after that. In fact she wasn't sure about much anymore (having one's entire belief system thrown into the wind on a daily basis did that) except this; for years she had been sure about this. She bit her lower lip as she waved one hand through the air concentrating on nonverbal spell casting. Stopping time was easy, starting it up again would take a bit more energy but she had plenty of it right now. She felt the tingle of it running through her and she knew it was set it was now or never.

She moved though the all too familiar home with an ease and elegance she hadn't had when her own residence was so close by. No, back then she had been such a girl, all gothed out and thinking she was cool. She shook her head at the ludicrousness of it all. She'd been unknowingly wandering around through her life, letting the tides drag her here or there depending on their whims. She hadn't recognized the world around her for what it was; hell she hadn't even recognized the Ventures for what they were. She had taken almost every extraordinary aspect of her life for granted. It was only later on, during her first mission, that she opened her eyes to what those poor boys had been forced to endure for years. They were placed in REAL danger every single day. NO exceptions, NO faking, just pure danger. The first time she had faced off against a super villain he had broken her wrist in four places and tossed her around the room. Of course the Outrider and her mother had stopped the guy before any real damage could be done but seriously, she had been thrown like a ragdoll. Since then she had been kidnapped twice and more commonly found herself at the wrong end of a some over eager villain's staff or wand. So she, in response, had gotten better, stronger, faster. Her magic was bar none and even the master had complimented her on her progress once or twice. But it wasn't enough, it certainly didn't feel like enough, and in that she remained empty despite her accomplishments. Secretly she blamed the master for this. Having to sneak around her old home like a criminal. Having to go back there in the first place.

At first, when she had seen the master, it was for monthly updates. After all, after finishing with her mother she did plan on becoming his student. It was like magical grad school and she felt there was a lot to learn from her father and the master. That had led to another surprising revelation. In most magical circles her father was considered powerful and impressive. Byron Orpheus would never be cool like her mom or the Outrider but definitely a powerful warlock, not to be trifled with.

"Yo, Triana, are you finished this yet?"

The disembodied voice nearly made her jump out of her skin as the image of an incorporeal Kim appeared before her. The face of her best friend and fellow student sudden projected itself, just as pushing and demanding as the real Kim was. Kim's incorporeal tendrils of hair flew around her head like writhing snakes while her expression remained dour except for an annoyed look that exuded from her eyes. Triana sighed. Being partners was not really a strength the wild girl or Triana herself had in their natures. Hank and Dean were obvious partners and made working together look almost easy, but they'd been together since forever (at least whenever clones get together) and she and Kim were very different in almost every regard. At least Kim respected her boundaries-most of the time. Having one of your best friends train under your stepfather could get kind of awkward but it hadn't been her choice and since fate seemed determined to throw them together she was not going to fight that uphill battle. All in all life with Kim wasn't that bad and in the end the residing theme of " Shit happens" was a creed Triana Orpheus had learned to live by, the other one being "Carpe Diem". And that was the reasoning behind her current situation, despite Kim's interference.

"Fine don't answer me but I have no idea why you're doing this?" the incorporeal Kim looked around then whirled on her, "Omg did you stop TIME to do this? Triana, that's some hardcore magic. Why didn't you just ring the doorbell for godsakes?"

"Because I don't have too." Was her sharp reply, "And I want to do it my way."

"Listen, I understand you want to say goodbye. Tomorrow's supposed to be intense and we might not come out of there alive, but all this? Seriously? Seriously! This is stupid! It's DEAN VENTURE for fuck's sakes. The kid idolized you when you were a sixteen-year-old goth with an attitude problem and mommy issues. You don't think the fact most of our villains won't even throw a punch because your so hot is going to sit well with him. That you'll sit here and be able to have a meaningful conversation dressed like that and he won't pass out? You'll be lucky if he doesn't pee his pants!"

"It's fine Kim," she snapped back, before allowing herself a few calming breaths, "I'll be back soon. I promise just keep everyone there busy for me okay?"

"I still think this is stupid but sure," she replied, "You're my friend. Tell me how it goes."

She watched as her friend's image disappeared into wisps of pink smoke. She was right. Triana knew it and that fact only made Kim more annoying. She knew she should just turn around and head back to the other realm and get a goodnight's sleep. She would need all the energy she could get for the trials tomorrow. In fact it was down right idiotic wasting such valuable time creeping through this compound wasting both time and energy for something she wasn't even sure of.

In addition, the Venture family had not seen her since her last goodbye all those years ago. Dean had not seen her; even on her rare trips to her father's home they missed one another. She had felt the sting of that absence much more keenly then she thought she would. To make matters worse the master had decided the image of forty-year-old Dean was his go-to form whenever she came calling. It was so odd, going to see the master and (for the most part) having him speak to her as this old, worn and broken version of Dean Venture. At first it had been a deterrent; a view of the horror her own failure could produce and motivation to keep her going. But then the strangest thing happened. She found she liked it. Just seeing him there made her feel better, it instilled a sense of confidence in her and whenever she was in his presence she more self-assured. Not because she was so far above him but because she was sure that somewhere someone was missing her and that image provided a constant anchor to her thoughts. Either way when she thought about it she realized that if there was one person she wanted to say goodbye to before tomorrow and it was Dean Venture.

Of course, with most girls that would have been cause for a phone call or a date. Instead it had led to her breaking into his house in the middle of the night. She sighed as she eased open the lab door into the main house, it wasn't necessarily a good plan (or a plan at all) but it was the only one she had so she might as well go through with it. Noting that there was really no point to keep time stuck, and that it was draining her already limited resources, she released the spell as soon as she secured the door. The house was the same as always, trapped in a time warp and idly she wondered if maybe the Tempus spell had been cast on the Venture home long before she ever stepped foot in it. She bit back the nervousness in her stomach. She hadn't spoken to Dean in years other then the random letters he sent her and the copies of Venture Home News he emailed back. In fact the only things she had learned about Dean were simply through her father and even those facts were uneventful. He still lived with his father, he was slowly becoming a scientist- like his father, he was still dressing like Dr Venture. She wanted to cry for him. Sure, she had taken up her parent's mantle and for the most part they were pretty laid back about it. Hell, even the outfit she had seen him in was like a junior version of his dad. She was sure if she had put her foot down about it there was no way she'd be decked out the way she was, but she was willing to try her mother's way. After all, most sorceress' dressed like they were going to a slutty Halloween party.

Carefully she crept up the stairs, hoping their room was still located at the far end of the hall. It was, of course, and easing the door open she crept inside and sidled up to the strange looking bed on the right hand side. She allowed herself a moment to let her eyes adjust to the low light. Even the smell of the air was the same as when she last remembered it. It was hard to feel alright about the situation and she had to remind herself that there was no spell cast yet and they could wake at any time.

He looked exactly the same. His chest had broadened slightly, his face held a hint of stubble she hadn't noticed before and for the most part his acne had cleared up. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose was still visible in the dark, highlighting the contours of his delicate face. She felt very nervous all of the sudden, even as she bent down to kneel next to the bed. She watched as he unconsciously turned towards her. He must have been taller then she was, even (in her hooker boots) she could tell he would have at least a few inches on her when he was upright. Her eyes, so used to the dark at this point drank in his appearance. His mouth twisted slightly as she crept even closer, without actually thinking about it she reached forward, and began to run his fingers through his russet hair. Triana nearly slapped herself. She knew it was totally inappropriate to do this and definitely not what she had come there for but in the moment she tried to stop herself she found it was impossible to resist the urge to touch him. Delicately she ran her fingers through his shorter hair, noting the style had not changed, but that his face had. The soft lines and contours she had always seen as delicate on his tapered face had hardened, she could see the starting of bags beneath his eyes and the strong darker brows. Right now, at this moment, there was no trace of the balding overweight man The Master had said he would become. Only a young man of twenty with strong lines and the bloom of youth etched across his features. Gently she ran her finger down his jaw, letting her hands trail across the pale smooth skin, focusing on every sensation, every freckle, every line. As she did so she tried to commit the image to memory. She knew the trials would be hard, and she knew that she wanted (more then anything) for this to be the last memory she had of him.

She was so intensely invested in what she was doing she didn't notice his hand until it was far too late. To his credit he didn't scream or cry out at her presence but he did hold her tightly, his eyes fixing on her with a stare that could best be described as cold and hard. He grabbed her wrist tightly in his hand, in a vice like grip that made it clear she was not going anywhere. She noted, rather clinically, that his fingers were very long but also tempered and that he encased her entire wrist in his grip without any strain. Instinctively, she threw out her tempus spell. If she could stop time and escape he need never know she was here. Of course, in her experience things never went so smoothly and as she raised her free hand to conjure the needed spell she felt his weight shift and his free hand grasp for hers. She felt the coolness of the spell wash over her but she also the falling sensation of their toppling out of the bed and onto the floor. The bright flash of light that signified the ed over them and for a moment she was thrown back with spell's completion wash the energy discharge. In that second of helplessness that followed she felt the weight press her down to secure her in place; her eyes searching out his.

He was still moving despite the spell (being able to cast around those making physical contact with the castor was rule one) and his body pressed hers into the blue carpet of the boy's childhood bedroom. She tilted her head back to see his brother, still and silent in his bed. She assessed the situation and quickly discovered she was not getting out of this pin unless he was the one letting her out. Well, at least Hank was fast asleep and her embarrassment wouldn't get an audience.

"Who are you?" he demanded angrily.

She turned her head to him in something close to shock. Agreed, it was dark out but seriously, she knew he could see her.

"What are you talking about, it's me!" she snapped.

Instead of apologizing like she thought he would he held fast. She felt him straddle her, pressing her hips tighter into the ground and making his position even more secure. She found she couldn't move her hips at all and soon her hands were pinned to the sides of her head. She turned to look directly at him, noting his face was older and his voice deeper. For a moment she felt a stab of fear. This was not the Dean she remembered and it certainly was not the Dean who wore that little pink apron. This was a different man, it was disconcerting.

"Who are you?" he ground out again, his voice getting louder and higher with each moment "And why are you in my bedroom? Are you trying to kill us because seriously, this has to be the crappiest attempt I've ever seen? Or is this a bad touch thing? Is it? Are you trying to bad touch us?"

His eyes were growing darker by the second and he began to loom over her, making his dominant position clear.

'"Calm down Dean, "she replied with more then a little fear.

"Why are you here and what did you do to my brother?" he continued as if he weren't listening to her.

"Dean, it's Triana." She cried.

It was as if she had thrown on a switch in his mind. She watched his dark eyes scroll across her face before settling on her. His grip on her wrists loosened but did not disappear, the pressure on her hips did not let up at all.

"Triana?" he asked innocently, "No, that's impossible. You went away. Um, Triana, why are you dressed like a super villain?"

She smiled, "I'm not a villain. I'm a sorceress. Or I'm going to be."

"Really?" he cried, "That's amazing! Just like your dad? Are you going to be coming back to live with us?"

She smiled with the sheer relief of it. The normallacy of his question. It had been years, literally years, since someone had asked her anything so blessedly- normal.

"Triana are you okay?" he stumbled over the words, rearing back in his blue pajamas and releasing her, "Um, don't cry okay? I'm sorry! I didn't mean it? You don't have to come home!"

She didn't even say anything she just rose up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her and holding him close. He stayed perfectly still as she held him. All the while her head was screaming at her that none of this made any sense. It was a mistake to go to him in the first place and after that mistake compounded on mistake until it led to this, her hugging Dean Venture on the floor or his bedroom.

"Um Triana, you okay?" he tried again, the telltale waver sounding in her voice.

Letting him go slightly she felt him loosen his hold but not relinquish it. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his dark eyes shining at hers. He was still holding on.

"I've um, well, I missed you," he whispered; even in the dark light she could see the brilliant blush bloom across his still freckled cheeks

His voice was so light and tentative that she acted before she thought it through. For the most ironic moment in her life Triana Orpheus wanted Dean Venture more then she had ever wanted anything in her entire life.

It was almost surreal. His lips were soft if not slightly chapped as he pressed them unresponsively against hers. She breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of books, laundry detergent and a scent that was so uniquely him that she thought she had forgotten it; but the moment it was back and all the emotions tied to it.

Dammit, she cursed herself and his nerves, if this was the way he was going to be she was going to take whatever she wanted from it.

Gently she tilted her head to gain a better angle, parting her lips slightly and letting the tip of her tongue tease against his lower lip. His breath slightly at the action but stayed perfectly still. She tried again, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. If that was his button she would say she hit it because the moment her teeth connect with the tender flesh he gasped deeply, as if something within him had reset. His mouth tilted over hers, at a contradicting her angle as he pressed against her. His hands reached forward, one cupping her head as if to keep her from fleeing while the opposite hand seemed to rest against her throat. His thumb pressed tightly against the soft place behind her ear and it occurred to her after a few more moments of heated kissing, that he was measuring her pulse. Boldly she opened her mouth wide, letting her tongue rush forward and meet his in a strangely sensual dance. She felt Dean moan into her mouth in response, adjust his angle while meeting her kiss for kiss.

Triana took a moment to assess this incredibly surprising situation. Not that she had loads of experience other then the normal highschool grope fests and a few convenient dalliances with some warlocks she had met through her mother and the Outrider but there was some experience under her belt. However never, in all those moments had she felt nearly as turned on as she did while writhing beneath Dean Venture. It was so strange. Of course her attention was pulled away again the moment she felt the first unconscious thrust and the evidence of his arousal pressed tightly against her belly.

Giving a little moan she pressed her pelvis up to meet his, grinding against him. Perhaps the barely there boy shorts were a good idea.

She couldn't speak to Dean's experience but what she could say was that he did have good instincts. The moment she ground against him he broke the kiss with a low groan and turned a sharply heated gaze upon her. She was shocked. Dean had always been sweet, nerdy, kind kid but this, this was not the same boy. This was a totally different animal and whether it was because of their shared past or this the absence of all those years the way he looked at her had a way of making her feel totally and completely feminine, definitely not something she thought she would be feeling tonight.

"Dean?" she whispered huskily.

"Tri-triana" he stuttered.

Then again, as if a light switched he pushed away from her, his eyes wide with wonder. Immediately they turned to his gaze to the still unmoving Hank.

"Triana, what did you do?" he cried suddenly, "Hank, hank wake up!"

She sighed, at least he wasn't crying.

Pushing herself into a sitting position she straightened her clothing strategically, earning her a moment of silence as her best friend/makeout partner stopped wailing in favour of watching her. Smiling to herself she met his eyes once more in the dark room, the moonlight slashing across the floor, highlighting her appearance.

"Triana?" he asked carefully in his almost eerie voice, "Why are you dressed like a vampire? Are you evil now? Have you come to kill us? OH no, you killed hand didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

She wanted to scream or cry, she didn't know which but both seemed like viable options she settled for jumping on him.

All the training had made her reflexes hard and fast, the moment he made a move to his feet and towards the door she was on him, pinning him to his bed just as he had previously pinned up. TO his credit he did not throw her off he merely let his breathing (panting his worry in the same old way) and proving to her that not everything changed.

"First of all I'm not a vampire, I'm a sorceress. Remember, I went to go train with my mom. My dad's a necromancer. Second, Hank's fine, I stopped time. He can't hear a thing. No one can." She said gently, trying as hard as she could to calm him.

"You stopped time?" he gaped, "But-but that's IMPOSSIBLE!"

"Um, not really," she replied "I mean, it's hard I guess, but when you know the right spells and you're only aiming for a small pocket of space it's not all that bad."

"Well it just seems unlikely, I mean why go to all the trouble of stopping time. Why not just use a cloaking device or something like that? If your only goal here is to remain unnoticed." He suggested in an oddly calm manner.

"That's actually a really good idea," she marveled outloud, "I never really thought about it before.

He smiled, preening a little beneath her, "I can make you one if you want. It'll only take a jiff. Then you could visit me whenever you want. Which brings me to another questions I guess I should ask. Triana why are you here."

She bit her lip as she let the inevitable question that hung between them wash over her. It was pretty valid, after all she had always been on the receiving end of the 'relationship' if you could even call it that. She wasn't used to Dean questioning her interest. The doubt came at her like a freight train. What was she doing? One minute she had been talking about tomorrow with Kim and the next she had gotten it into her head she had to see Dean again. Then within the span of three hours she had teleported into his house, stopped time twice, made out with him on his bedroom floor and was no sitting on him in his bed trying to suss out just how her messed up head and decided that all this was a best possible course of actions she could take. She pulled one leg over his body, and then the other, standing up to the side of the bed suddenly.

"Oh my god, You're right," she whispered, lowering her head to cover the blush on her cheeks, "I have no idea what I'm doing here, I have the test tomorrow and then I just wanted to see you. Oh never mind, I'm totally sorry, I'll take off, forget, I was ever here…"

But as she pulled away she found there was something stopping her. Looking down curiously she was shocked to see Dean's hand hold her wrist. Her eyes roved up his arm to his shoulder, then neck and finally to his face. He was looking at her with that sort of knee quaking look he had given her before. She felt a stab of heat run from her heart to her groin as he continued to stare her down with his new eyes.

"I never said I wanted you to leave." He stated with surprising confidence, he tugged tightly on her arm, forcing her to stumble back towards him, "Stay."

It was a command or something, she wasn't quite sure why she listened and within a second she was beside him on the bed. He turned to face her, the small area pressed them close together and his chest was tight against her arm. Turning as well she found herself practically nose to nose with him, his nose almost touching hers, the small heat of his breath puffing out to her. Then his hand began. Propping his head up on one hand he let his free hand gently move forth. He touched her the way she would image someone would try to touch a small animal or bird, delicate, lightly as if the slightest movement might provoke an unwanted reaction. First he dragged his fingers down the column of her neck, wrapping them around so lightly that she barely noticed but enough to feel the air running in and out of her. Then he continued down the expanse of her breasts, the soft skin between them. She drew in a breath as his fingers danced forward, touching the small eye hooks that help her shirt tightly closed.

Softly he flicked them open with the slightest twist of the finger, causing her breasts to spill forward, and the cloth to moved aside. She heard Dean catch his breath.

"I never really imagined…" then he paused, holding his own words back as he continued his examination of her body.

Triana felt him cup one breast, and closed her eyes as he examined it, the weight of it, the feel and the finally ran his thumb delicately over the nipple. Letting out a slightly moan she arched her back, encouraging him to do it again. He did but this time he switched breasts, examining the other one with the same attention to detail he did before to the previous one. She let her body drift, her mind alive with the sensations running through her until she let out an unconscious gasp. Looking down she was shocked to see Dean's mouth had replaced his hands upon her breasts. She peaked at him through hooded eyes and found he was straddling her, looking directly at her face as hip lips wrapped around the rose pink nipple and sucked on it gently. Her response was another incoherent moan. She could feel his mouth smile around her breast and that smiled caused her to reach back and entangle her hand in his rust coloured hair, holding him in place.

His ministrations continued as did her reactions until she felt his hands go lower. While his mouth continued his fingers began to dance along the plane of her stomach, over her sides, and along the band of her obscene shorts. Looking at him once more she saw the question in her eyes and had to smile at it. While this entire escapade was turning into an exercise in just how much Dean had changed this was a reminder that he hadn't. She could see the uncertainty there, the nervousness he was trying so desperately to hide from her.

"Go ahead," she whispered.

His smiled seemed to blossom over his face, his cheeks enflamed so red she thought (for a moment) he might be running a fever.

Tentatively he reached forward, pulling the sides of her shorts over her narrow hips and exposing her sex to the coolness of the room and to his gaze. She felt self-conscious once more; turning her body slightly to hide from him but a strong, wide hadn't against her pelvis held her fast.

"You don't have to hide from me," he whispered against her skin, pressing soft kissing to her belly, "You're so smooth, I never thought you'd be smooth. Did you have an operation or something, is that why they shaved you?"

She didn't respond to his statement but instead let her body responds to his ministrations. His words didn't even need a response and somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled Dean being a talker, needing to talk through his problems. Even now the words seemed to secure him, a tickling hot litany against her skin. They disappeared from her mind when his fingers first grazed the crease between her legs. She bucked against it, helplessly mewling at the sensations running through her body. His fingers slipped over her again, delicately tracing the contours of her body. Reaching down he trailed his fingers along the side of her thigh before slipping them along the folds of her nether lips and then deeper. She moaned wantonly to his touch, lifting herself to get closer, trying to encourage him to go deeper, to really touch her.

"Please," she begged, "Please Dean…"

His fingers began again, just one this time, touching her blindly, pressing here and there and using her reactions to gage his success. The moment he came close enough to tease her opening she pushed forward, trying to force his fingers to penetrate her. He seemed startled by her sudden movement and pulled back slightly but was immediately shoved forward as Triana bought her knees up to catch him under his arms. He caught himself on his hands just by her head and she felt eh very hard evidence of his own arousal hit against her naked crouch.

Her hands moved a great deal more quickly then his, shoving his sleeping pants off him with barely any preamble and reaching down to grasp him in her hands. The weight of him was solid in her hand but the shaking of his arms was not. Watching him intensely she brought her hand up and down, pumping him silently, speeding up and then slowly down, pressing hand and at other times ghosting over him; letting his gasps fill the stilled room.

"Triana, I…I've never…" he cried out, "I don't know…"

She smiled sweetly, her hand slowed as she used her grip to pull him closer.

"Relax" she cooed softly, letting his hands frame her face in his hands, "Kiss me."

He nodded as if it was the most monumentous decision of his youth life. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her mouth almost desperately as she gently led him into her. She felt him whimper into her mouth as his hips instinctively thrust forward, pressing himself into her.

"Oh God," he cried, breaking off their kiss and burying his head into the crook of her neck, "It's so, Triana what's happening…"

Tenderly she shushed him, running her hand across his back, easing his distress, kissing his face, his shoulder and every part she could reach. Dean whimpered above her, breathing harshly against her throat in a torrent of hot air and fear.

"Are you okay?" she asked a little awkwardly.

A nervous giggled escaped Dean, all smoothness and charm stripped bare leaving the same odd, nerdy, prudish boy she had known for so long. It felt good to see him again, even if it was under these strange circumstances.

She raised her hips slightly, offering him the chance to feel and relying heavily on the assumption human instinct might take over despite the near panic he seemed to be in. She was right because as soon as she did he responded. A low moan escaping him as his hips met hers, thrust back cautiously as if he were shy all of the sudden. She tried again pushing against him with a little more force, drawing a stronger reaction from him.

"Dean," she whispered into his skin, "Harder,"

She reached out now, placing her hands upon his hips and tugging him forward. He let out an indistinct cry at the pressure, pulling and pushing to establish a rhythm. His own hands felt around, groping at the bed sheets and then at her waist. Tilting her hips with his next thrust she felt him reach deep inside, touching a part of her that was yet unknown. The stab of pure arousal coursed through her body like liquid heat, and she cried out at it, pulling him back into her, forcing his length deeper into her body. His own responses mirrored hers. He let out a startled groan at the contact and then a gasp at her second attempt. By the third his higher functions and nervousness seemed to have taken a back seat to his desire. He surged forward without her guidance, fingers digging into her hips as he did so. She cried out again, each frenzied thrust coiling the already present ball of arousal that had formed her lower belly. His hands released her hips and brought them above her, using his elbows to brace himself up she felt their connected bodies rise just slightly, changing the angle yet again.

She was unsure of what he was doing exactly until his next thrust rocked through her. She couldn't contain her cry of pleasure as he pushed in and out at a constant pace. The new angle pushing him so far into her she felt as if he were trying to be a part of her, etch himself into her very soul. The coil went tighter and tighter, his speed increasing as passion and desire instructed his actions. Finally, Triana cried out, the satisfaction streaming from the center of her core and rushing outwards into every limb of her body like molten contentment. Her body arched up, forcing her to wrap her legs tightly around Dean's hips and lock her ankles at the base of his spine in an intense attempt to maintain the almost unbearable bliss she was feeling.

"Triana," she heard him whisper, with the reverence of a prayer.

Again her body clamped down on him causing her to cry out sharply. This time, his cry joined hers as his thrusts seemed to lose their rhythm, becoming erratic and harder as she strove towards his own release. Then, in one final push, she felt his body tense, his arms wrapping around her and a strange sensation of him moving inside her. It really was the oddest feeling accompanied by a warmth in her that seemed to spread outwards. He buried his head into the crook of her shoulder, letting out a broken groan as he rode out his own relief.

After a moment he seemed to collapse on top of her. Carefully she rolled them both onto their sides, never separating him from her. From this new point she could see his face, the beads of sweat that glistened on his forehead and the slightly laboured breathing.

"Triana," he whispered again, fear and nerves returned to his voice, "I didn't think… I mean I hoped we would but I never thought we would… I love you…"

She smiled at him. He looked so innocent and delicate and the moment she got a good look at him she felt that strong sense of guilt stab through her heart. Reaching forward she ran her fingers across his brow, his face and then his lips. He kissed each fingertip they touched him and she replaced them with her mouth, letting him meet her in a slow sensual kiss. A kiss that expressed a lazily weariness she felt run through his body and into hers. She could tell that he barely noticed the soft whisper against his mouth or the way he slipped from her body, his eyes fighting for consciousness as her words continued in their magic chant. Soon he was sleeping as deeply as he ever had and she was left alone, tears in her eyes and a dark question in her heart.

Rising up from the bed and careful of the messy evidence of their night together she gathered her discarded clothing and pulled it on hastily. She tried to keep the tears from spilling at the realization of what she had to do.

Reaching into the purple jacket she took out a small brown drawstring sack of dust she kept tucked away and neared Dean. Sitting on the side of his bed she gently sprinkled some of the near invisible shimmering powder over the stain that was left on the sheets.

"Let what is seen be unseen," she crooned in her most steady voice.

Before her the stain lightened and then disappeared as if it had never existed. Letting out a deep exhale she neared Dean. The spell would keep him soundly sleeping until the dawn. She fingered the dust. She could get rid of his memory of the night, sprinkle a bit into his face and it would be gone from his mind, nothing more then a good dream. She owed him that, she owed him more then a late night toss, a deep sleeping spell and a hasty exit. She believed him when he had whispered he loved her. She had taken so much that night, his innocence, his time, his heart and his virginity (unconfirmed but he had hinted) Tears rolled down her eyes this time. She couldn't just let this happen. But there was no way she could take this from him, not only was it unfair it was just cruel. She put the bag back into her pocket and instead leaned over his sleeping form and pressed her lips to his temple. Let him have the memories, let him think it all a wonderful dream. There would be no real evidence of it but in their minds and if she didn't make it through the trials she wanted him to have that. She wanted him to carry those memories for her.

She slipped out of the compound, making her way towards her old room and the closet door. Just outside it she dropped the spell and watched in amazement at how the stopped time rushed to meet the rest of the day, the sun rising up at super speed to signal the dawn. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and though of Dean before opening the door and stepping into the grey smoke to meet her destiny.


End file.
